


Blame it on Me

by orphan_account



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: F/M, Morning Sex, One-Shot, Slight angsty, Some Humor, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 06:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: His relationship with Irina was always complicated. If he married someone else, why does it feel like she's the one he just betrayed? Modern.





	Blame it on Me

He emerges from his deepest slumber, squinting away the fog clouding in his unpredictable mind. At first he can't figure out where he is — the feather - soft mattress, thin cotton bedsheets and pink soft covers definitely aren't his. He squints again and the memories came flooding back.  
  
It was already light outside, early morning sunlight spilling through the large window to illuminate the room. He sat up and shakes off the last of the fog as he sees a curvacious figure sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, wrapped in nothing but the comfy sheet as she reads something on her phone.  
  
"Irina" he calls softly. Seeing him awake, she drops her phone back onto the bedside table with a thud and turns, resting her weight on one hand.  
  
"Your awake"  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Past five" She says as she moothes his jet black locks down.  
  
"Sorry for snoozing the alarm. I thought i'd let you sleep a little longer" She adds after a brief pause, fluttering her lashes at him.  
  
He doesn't want to sleep. He wouldn't have slept at all last night if he didn't have to. He doesn't want to waste his precious hours with her on something as mundane as sleeping.  
  
  
"We still have time," he says. "Come back to bed for a little while." He holds out a hand in invitation, and without a slightest hesitation, she accepts it and settles beside him again, resting her head on his broad shoulder. He plants a quick chaste on her golden locks and letting his hand fall to her waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her hip. She sighs and rests her delicate fingers lightly on his exposed chest. Her fingers are cool, but her body is warm next to his.  
  
"What are you thinking?" he asks when the silence grows too deafening.  
  
She sat up and wraps the sheet around herself again and asks, "Have you ever heard of the 'many worlds' theory?"  
  
He raises his eyebrow and props himself up on one elbow. "What, you mean like aliens?" he says, trailing a finger lightly down her leg.  
  
She laughs: a contagious yet warm sound that would always make him smile. "It's not like that" she replies. "The many worlds theory says that there are multiple universes that exist parallel to ours, where all the choices we didn't make are being played out"  
  
"Sounds like something you tell yourself when you miss a cab" he remarks.  
  
He wanted to make her laugh again, but the comment only seems to disturb her. So he sat up and wraps his strong arms around her from behind.  
  
"Do you believe it?" Irina asks in a serious tone.  
  
  
A beat of silence, and then he admits, "I don't know. I'd like to. I'd like to think we…" He seems to shake himself out of a reverie. "I guess it doesn't matter either way"  
  
"You don't think so?"  
  
"There's no point regretting what we can't have Irina" he answers. His voice was firm, but there's something painful that gathers at the edges of it. Not for the first time, she feels the guilt gnawing at her.  
  
"Are you mad at me?" She asks hesitantly. The question had been nagging at her for a while now, and she wonders if he was thinking of a world where he had never met her, where he had a family that all he ever wanted, where she had never disrupted his life.  
  
  
He seems taken aback. "Of course not," he says at once. "It's just…"  
  
He takes some time to consider his next words. Unlike her, he always thinks before he speaks, but every second that passes now only makes her more convinced that he really is mad at her, in spite of what he said. She can imagine his answer going through a careful filtering system in his mind(filtered for things like politeness, decency and neutrality)so that it turns out kind of half-truth.  
  
  
She touches his shoulder to get his attention. His silence unnerves her, and she just wants to see his piercing raven eyes. He doesn't look angry, but her relief is short-lived. He's not angry, but he looks restless.  
  
"Is it because i lost the baby?" Irina asks a little annoyed "...Make up your mind already"  
  
"Irina, you're not to blame. You know better. It's just...if i had the chance i'm not sure i'd do anything differently" Retorted Tadaomi.

"I know......but you're making me feel guilty, Tadaomi"  
  
"I'm...sorry" she says. She isn't sure which thing she's apologizing for(because she has a lot of options to choose from), but it feels like the right thing to say. She gingerly holds his hand and repeats, "I'm sorry," and this time she knows exactly why she's apologizing when she leans in and hugs his bare back affectionately.  
  
It's easy to lose herself in him. Much as she hates to admit it, he's like a drug, something that soothes her and gives her something else to focus on so she can forget. She can forget how prideful and arrogant she can be when around him. She can forget how good she is at flirting or seducing when around him but she doesn't have to think about exactly how fucked up she is.  
  
She's never been particularly religious, but right now she prays to any God who might hear her that this many worlds theory of her is true, because that means that's somewhere he's getting out of bed and leaving her with what's left of his dignity. Somewhere she never started this madness in the first place. Maybe there's a world where she's still that ignorant, carefree or a sweet summer "child" who first fell in love with him.  
  
And maybe she never met him at all.  
  
She can feel him tense, but he doesn't pull away. She wishes he would. She'd have let him go then, if that was what he wanted. But the truth is, he's as lost as she is now.  
  
  
"Maybe i should leave...if that's what you needed" And yet even as she says the words, she regrets them and hopes he'll ask her to stay.  
  
But he blinks and the hurt is gone, replaced with resignation. "If you want" he answers quietly as he pushes her himself applying just enough force not to hurt her.  
  
Finally, as he sighs and starts to get up, she snatches his wrist and holds on. He was mildly surprised by the sudden resistance and decided to turn back to her.  
  
"I don't want to," she says flatly.  
  
He still doesn't move, but as he looks at her, despite the warm sunshine illuminating the room, her sapphire orbs were filled with nothing but deep sorrow. He brought up his thumb, carresing her soft cheek like she was a doll that he feared would break. Her tear - filled gaze snapped up at his sudden gesture and as she meets him halfway and loops her arms around his neck and grabs her opportunity to initiate a kiss. Her kiss was erotic yet passionate. It was different than the previous night; that had been explosive, a release of pent - up emotions. This morning is tender, but somehow more intense.  
  
He puts one hand on her back, the other cradling her head, defensively claiming her in his arms before laying her gently on the pillows. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales. She smells like soap and Chanel and sex, a combination he still remembers perfectly.  
  
And in spite of everything, he smiles at her when she pulls away and entwines their fingers. It's a sad, knowing smile, but a smile nonetheless.  
  
  
" Tadaomi, please" she mewled, squeezing his hand gently. There's something very final in her voice, in the way she says his name.  
  
His hand slides up her inner thigh, and she parts her legs a little further to allow him access. She lets out a soft sigh of pleasure as he slips first one finger into her, then another. She's already wet, her body welcoming. Although she's a little more relaxed from last night, she's still tight enough that he knows it's been a long time for her. She'd been too impatient last night to make sure he was mentally prepared, but then he hadn't seemed particularly concerned about it, either. Foreplay had not been high on either of their priority lists but she's probably sore this morning, so he wants to be more careful. There's too little time to rush through this.  
  
Her words send a shiver down his spine. He crawls back up so he's positioned over her. Today he enters her slowly, euphoria was evident in her face as they join.

The sunlight has grown brighter as the day begins, but Irina refuses to let herself think about the time. She remembers when they had let entire weekends pass by without a glance at the clock, free of schedules, free of responsibilities. It had taken some persuasion to get him to that point, but it had been worth it. She doesn't think he'd be able to do that anymore, and she wishes he had the time to teach her again.  
  
  
He kisses a trail down between her floppy breasts and over her stomach, stopping to trace intricate patterns over her abdomen before moving between her legs, pressing a kiss briefly to her upper thigh. She exhales as he drags his tongue along her center once before slipping it inside her. He hears her moan softly as her fingers tangle themselves in his hair. God, she tastes just as good as he remembers, maybe better; and the sounds she's making are like a song(Those are for him; that song is for him.)  
  
Pulling away slightly, he slides his fingers back into her and listens to her breath hitch. He teases her clitoris with his tongue until her legs tighten around his head and her breath is coming in short gasps.  
  
"Tadaomi," he hears her say breathlessly, and he looks up. She tugs lightly on his shoulders, wanting him closer. "I want you inside me"

Her eyelids flutter shut, and she exhales a long breath and she can almost believe they're still back in her old penthouse on her lumpy mattress, and that nothing has changed.  
  
When he's completely inside her, she wraps her legs around his waist and buries her fingers in his thick luxurious hair. She wore a heartfelt smile as she nuzzled lightly on his chiseled pecs.  
  
Until now, she's thought that at least some of the reason he finally gave in to her last night was because of the thrill. After all, he's exactly the type for that—someone who lives his life so tightly bound by rules and responsibilities that he'd let go in a moment of recklessness but this isn't about rebellion or liberation, this was her way of apologizing and this was his way of reciprocating or accepting it that he will no longer become a father.  
  
"I love you," she says as he blinks in surprise. She has never been the first one to say it, always cautious with her heart, always wanting some reassurance that her feelings will be reciprocated. Her fear of rejection.  
  
Tenderly, he brushes a few golden locks of hair away from her face. "I love you," he echoes.  
  
His lips graze against hers in an almost-kiss. He forces himself to keep a measured pace, wanting it to last as long as possible. She feels so good—all of her, her hair and her lips and her skin flush against his.  
  
He sat up and pulls her into his lap. This has always been his favorite way of making love to her, because he can actually hold her. She rests her forehead against his as they move together—slowly, but with a sense of underlying urgency. He rests his hands on her hips and holds her gently while they speed up.  
  
He's getting close, but he can tell she's still not close enough. Slipping a hand between them, he finds the bundle of nerves between her legs and strokes her.  
  
"Tadaomi," she moans, her muscles clenching around him.  
  
"Come for me, Irina," he whispers.  
  
Her legs tighten around his waist and she stifles a cry in his shoulder as she comes. He's just behind her, and as he groans her name he holds her against him as if she might slip away. They stay like that for some time, wound around each other. Her fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. The sun has risen fully above the horizon now, turning her pale skin in an almost ethereal shade of gold.  
  
"Irina, it's getting late" he says flatly.  
  
She nods, but again neither of them makes a move to get up. As the silence stretches on, a question begins pressing in on her. It's one she's wanted to ask him since they were happily married but time has flown by and she still hasn't found the right words.  
  
She gently extricates herself, letting her pink polished nails trail along his jaw seductively as she gets up. She pulls on the robe hanging on her door and disappears briefly into the bathroom. A moment later she emerges with her hair clipped up.  
  
"I set out a towel and a washcloth. You can use any of the soap and shampoo" Before he can say anything, she hurries out of the room, and he hears her moving around in the kitchen.  
  
In the shower, he stares at the bottles lined up on the shelf. He picks one and hurries to finish. He wraps the towel around barely covering his waist and heads back into the bedroom. The bed has been made and his clothes are sitting folded neatly on the end. He dresses again, but his shirt is missing.

"Tadaomi, your shirt's drying," she says when he comes into the kitchen. She indicates a hanger fixed over the doorknob on the hall closet. "I steamed it for you so you don't have to leave looking like it's been wadded up and i also made some breakfast" She pushes a cup of coffee and served a freshly fried tilapia and some hand - rolled sushi onto it, She slides the plate across to him before taking the rest of the sushi and the other slice of fried tilapia for herself. She sat down across him.  
  
"Thanks but i'd have been fine with some cup noodles" he says,  
  
"I know," she answers simply.  
  
He pulls the coffee toward him and takes an experimental sip. It's hot, but not scalding; and he stares into the mug pensively. Somehow, she always managed to make his coffee even better than he could—probably because of her meticulous nature.  
  
They eat in silence as the tension in the atmosphere was now more awkward than companionable.  
  
After breakfast, she loads the dishwasher and goes to shower and change. Tadaomi takes the opportunity to wash out the skillet for her and gets his shirt. It looks neater than it has since he bought it.  
  
When he comes out, he's back to being Tadaomi Karasuma in public, a professional chief of the ministry of defense. He scoops his keys up from his pocket.  
  
"I'll give you a ride to the airport so you don't have to fight the subway" he says.  
  
  
She nods wordlessly. He shouldn't have to worry about chauffeuring her around on his day off, but she can't bring himself to turn down the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with him.  
  
  
They ride in silence except for the radio. It sounds like some kpop edm song, definitely not in English. He hears her humming along with it softly.  
  
"What is this?" She asks.  
  
Instead of answering, he skips past the song. "Sorry, i know it's not really your jam"  
  
"What is it, though?" She asks again. For some reason, she feels like she really has to know, even though the title won't mean anything to her.  
  
He shrugs lightly. "Anpanman...by BTS" He says it as if it's nothing special, but something in the tone of his voice suggests otherwise, and she makes a mental note to look it up later.

Finally, they pull into the airport and he stops outside the doors, to let her out. He gently reaches at the handle for her but pauses. He stare at her for a moment before enveloping her on a genuine hug.  
  
  
"I'm gonna miss you" Irina says as she reciprocated the hug. She pressed a small kiss on his cheek that wafted of apologies.  
  
"Be safe when i'm not around, Okay?"  
  
"Hush. I'm made of tough stuff Tadaomi. I'll be back safely. I promise"  
  
Abruptly, she gets out. She refuses to look back as she walks away, because she's not sure she'll be able to leave if she does but the question that's been nudging the back of her insistent mind suggests otherwise. More than once she actually opens her mouth and takes a breath to say something back to him, but she can't do it. When she finally reaches the entrance, she allows herself to glance over her shoulder. His car is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So HOW WAS IT?? Too much?


End file.
